


Mattie vs. Amatonormativity

by e_cat



Category: The Art of Escaping - Erin Callahan
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Mattie McKenna, Gen, but this is not the place to come if you're looking for fluff there, it got away from me a bit but it's there, listen... I needed to write this, that is the whole purpose, that relationship tag is there because I'm writing aro things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_cat/pseuds/e_cat
Summary: While Will's relationship is crumbling, Mattie is wondering what it means that she can't quite picture herself in his place.





	Mattie vs. Amatonormativity

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [GenAndAroPrompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GenAndAroPrompts) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
> 
> Basically, write a fanfiction for any fandom with under 500 works (the limit is reasonably elastic) that includes an ace/aro spectrum character. The goal is pretty much to try to expand some small fandoms with fics including ace/aro characters, something smaller fandoms might not have. Can be any length, any plot (just generally not upsetting)!
> 
> PS. A romantic or queerplatonic relationship with an ace/aro person is perfectly acceptable, unless you're writing a gen fic.
> 
> \------
> 
> I may have cheated the prompt a little, considering this is the first fic in the fandom. But I wanted to do something with this collection, and I wanted to write Mattie as aromantic, so here we are. I must also confess that I read an entire book between finishing this one and writing this fic, so the voices of the characters might be off a bit...And I totally messed up the balance of tenses the book used.
> 
> And of course, the characters from _The Art of Escaping_ belong to Erin Callahan.

Back in our junior year of high school, a collection of teachers sat us all down in the auditorium and handed out packets of essay questions that could potentially be on our college applications. We were told to pick a question and respond to it, and please feel free to see your guidance counselor or one of your teachers for feedback.

I never saw a single on of those questions on a college application, but there was one that’s stuck with me: where do you see yourself in ten years. It’s an awful question, of course, because how can you possibly imagine where ten years of adulthood will lead you when you haven’t even had one yet? But either way, whatever answer I might have come up with then couldn’t have been more wrong. This is two and half years out, and I can say that with certainty. Whatever my projected future was at seventeen, it would be impossible to end up there from where I am now.

It’s almost funny, if you think about it. Mattie in junior year had no idea what she wanted from life, and was basically apprehensive about everything real about it. She had no clue that she was about to enter the most transformative period of her life.

And, okay, I’m not just talking about the heart-pounding euphoria that is escapology. I’m not talking about meeting Will, or Frankie, or even Miyu. It’s all of it, and it’s more. It’s a whole year of studying history (and a tiny bit of creative nonfiction writing) at Bristol College. It’s going with Will to college parties, only to discover that they’re just as unstimulating as their high school counterparts. It’s designing new escapes for crowds that include people I’ll see in class on Monday, where they’ll say, “Hey, Mattie, that was so cool this weekend. I totally thought you were going to die!”

It’s learning, yet again and again, that life is incredibly hard and _so_ far from perfect.

For instance, right now, I am starving and I seriously want to get food. But I’m also hiding in my bedroom, because there is no way in hell that I’m going out in the middle of The Epic Fight of the Week.

I’m going to say two very nice things right now. Austin, some poor friendship choices aside, is incredibly sweet. Will is one of the best people I know, and he’s kind and just awesome. No question.

I hate them together.

I don’t hate them dating, that is. I hate The Epic Fight of the Week. I hate watching Will mope. I hate seeing Austin’s guilty eyes when he shows up on our doorstep again. I dread the day that Will thinks to ask me what he should do, because the only honest thing I can say is that they love each other, but they’re ripping each other apart.

He hasn’t asked yet, but he does talk about it. He puts all their problems on the distance, even though it isn’t much of a distance. It’s enough, I guess, to mean that their interactions are limited mostly to weekend visits. Apparently, that’s hard on a relationship, even though I only see my parents once a month or so, and Stella even less. I miss them sometimes, but we don’t fight every time we see each other.

Maybe I just don’t get the whole thing where you want to see your boyfriend all the time. In our first semester, I dated guy in one of my required core classes for a couple of months. He dropped the class a couple weeks into the semester, so we only saw each other when neither of us was busy, which was practically never. He seemed more bothered by it than I was. In fact, his pestering for more time together was one reason I broke it off.

I don’t particularly miss having a boyfriend; Will was always more fun to spend time with, anyways. I _do_ miss having an excuse when some guy, high on my performance, asks me out after one of my shows. I learned the hard way that coffee with a guy whose first exposure to you involved escaping from locks and chains on a stage is just awkward.

I pause my thoughts to listen. The Epic Fight of the Week seems to have concluded. No matter how horrendous the fight itself seems to get, Austin never slams the door on the way out, which I think might upset Will more. So, there’s really no way of telling whether Austin has gone, or if the two of them have made up and are making an obscene display of holding hands and staring into each other’s faces on the couch. If I’d been tracking the fight, I might have been able to say, but listening to the love/anguish in their voices is incredibly uncomfortable. Witnessing the nauseating love/happiness of them in a good spell is almost as bad.

I would like nothing better than to continue hiding out until the very air has forgotten the concept of Will’s relationship, but my hunger is winning out. After five minutes of silence from the living room, I decide to risk it. _You defy death all the time_ , I tell myself. _This should be a piece of cake._ But my palms are sweating as I go for the door.

On the sofa, Will is sitting by himself, looking miserable. Guiltily, I feel a flash of relief that Austin is no longer here. I like Austin just fine, is the thing, and I want Will to be happy; I haven’t been able to figure out why it bothers me to see them together.

“Hey,” Will says sorrowfully as I head for the fridge. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve got a couple of friends coming over.”

I look up, surprised. “Really? When did you –?” He and Austin were supposed to be going out tonight.

Will shrugs. “It was supposed to be a double date,” he says, trying to sound casual about it, and failing by quite a bit. “But, you know…” His stare is boring into the door.

I grab a couple of yogurts and spoons and come to sit on the couch beside him. I hand over a yogurt. “Do you want to talk about it?” _Please say no._

Will shrugs again. “I told them not to come,” he says, and I realize after a confused second that he’s referring to his friends, not to Austin. “But they insisted.”

I nod sympathetically, though internally I’m hoping that this couple isn’t overly affectionate, because it would just be unfair if _both_ Will and I had to be unhappy. “Do I know them?”

Will makes a face like he’s trying to think. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “They’re from GSA.”

Ah, GSA. I’ve tagged along a couple of times, but Will has really dived in head first. He’s gotten very involved, and even helped staff the booth at the club fair this semester. It’s really expanded his friend pool. Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to collect enough signatures to start an escapology club, and have fallen far short on making meaningful college friendships.

Before I can inquire further on these GSA friends, there is a knock at the door. Based on the look on Will’s face, there is an incredibly slim chance that it’s Austin. I pat his knee and get up to answer the door.

“Hi,” I say to the two people on the other side, trying to find the right balance between pleased-to-meet-you and sorry-it’s-under-these-circumstances. “You must be Will’s friends?”

The one on the left, a girl with expansive curls dyed light purple and a dress to match, smiles at me and says, “Hello. I’m Angie, she/her.”

The one on right, with short-cropped hair and red jeans, says, “I’m Ry. They/them.”

Feeling unprepared and awkward, I reply, “Um, hi. I’m Mattie. Uh. She/her?” I hope that I didn’t sound as stupid as it felt like I did. I step aside. “Come in, please.”

They come in, immediately going to Will on the couch. He looks very uncomfortable at being comforted, and keeps telling them that he’s fine. I shut the door.

Angie looks up. “Oh, wait!” she says. “You’re that friend of Will’s that does that escaping thing, right?”

I glance at Will. “Escapology,” I say, “yeah.”

She nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cool! Will showed us a video one time, but he keeps telling us we need to get out and see it in person! When’s your next show?”

I look at Will again, and he winces with guilt. “We haven’t set a date yet,” he mumbles, “but I’ll let you know when we have something set up.” I’m not mad, really, that Will has been too preoccupied to work on a new escape, but I’m getting close to the point where I force him to work on it with me.

“Great!” Angie says.

I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I don’t want to blurt out how I don’t understand why Will is still in this relationship. Instead, I say, “Hey, can I get any of you something to drink? Or we could do snacks.”

Will looks guilty again. “We were all going to go out to dinner,” he laments. “I’m sorry. You should go. Go eat. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Ry crosses their arms. “Will, believe it or not, we actually wanted to spend time with you tonight. Just because you and Austin had a fight doesn’t mean we don’t want to see you.”

“We could order pizza,” I offer. I definitely feel like I don’t belong in this conversation.

Angie frowns a little; I think she’s realized I don’t belong, too. “Maybe later,” she says. “Let’s talk for a little bit first. Will, what happened with Austin?”

Will looks uncomfortable, and I’m selfishly glad I’m not the only one. I realize, though, that I’m the only one standing, and so I let myself sink uneasily into a chair.

“It was stupid,” Will mutters after some additional prodding from Angie and Ry. “I told him – well, maybe we should actually hang out with his friends some time. And… I don’t know. We said some stuff…”

I grimace. I can’t imagine why Will would want to spend time with Kyle or Connor. They’re slightly less obnoxious these days, as Kyle is one semester away from transferring to a four-year school, and Connor is slowly working his way towards a job as a radio host, which pleases me immensely, as I will get to tell him he has a perfect face for radio next time I see him. Still, time and purpose can only change so much. Maybe Austin has some new friends? Oddly, I find it difficult to picture him being friends with anyone decent, and I wonder if that’s just because I’m so used the trio, or if maybe my subconscious secretly dislikes him. It sure would explain a lot.

The discussion has continued without me. Angie has plunged right into the supportive friend role, and Ry has been slotted in as the occasional sidekick to the supportive friend. It leaves me without a clear way to help, but I’m just glad that I don’t have to do this alone. Plus, I’m still hungry, and if I’m quiet enough, maybe no one will notice me getting up to get some chips.

“Mattie,” Will calls when I’m halfway to the kitchen closet. _Busted._ “What do you think? Should I call him? Should I see him in person?”

I blink. I have not exactly been tuned in to this conversation, and I’m not sure what they’re debating. Is this about an apology? A break-up? I just don’t know. “Um, what was the question?”

Angie smiles at me kindly. “To talk things out,” she clarifies. “Will wants to know if he should call or just go visit.”

“Oh.” I run a hand through my tangled hair. “Well,” I say slowly, “if you’re thinking about going to see him, you should let him know you’re coming first, right? So… maybe you might as well just call him?” I do not feel remotely qualified to give this advice.

Will seems to consider this. Angie begins listing reasons why this would go better in person, and I hope she doesn’t hate me now. I grab my bag of chips and return to my chair in disgrace, trying to pay attention and praying I don’t get called on.

Finally, after an hour of Will pouring out his feelings and Angie and Ry coming up with helpful responses that never would have occurred to me, everyone else seems to be tired of the topic as well. We order pizza, and sit around talking about things I can actually contribute to – like, Will’s friends getting to know each other. I discover that when they’re not showing me up at friend-comforting, Angie and Ry are pretty fun. Maybe not as fun as Frankie and Stella, but they are reasonably interesting. Will makes a point of stressing Ry’s interest in Star Trek, which is honestly a huge weak spot of mine. And Angie is just too sweet to dislike, so. I guess I’ll have to talk them into signing my escapology club petition.

We have a rather pleasant evening as the pizza comes and Star Trek is put on. As I’m reaching for my third slice of cheesy goodness, I notice a pin on Ry’s shirt. I know enough to be sure that it’s a pride flag, but I can’t place which one it is. I don’t _think_ it’s nonbinary…

I point to it. “This is going to sound so stupid, but what’s that?”

Ry looks down. “Oh,” they say. “That’s my ace pride pin.”

I blink.

“I’m asexual,” Ry clarifies. “I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

I blink again. “Oh,” I say. “I thought… you and Angie…”

“We are,” Angie pipes up. “Ry’s asexual, but sexual attraction and romantic attraction can be different. You can have one without the other.” She smilew fondly at Ry. “And they’re awesome at cuddling.”

Ry blushes, but I hardly notice. It sounds so simple: of course romance and sex can be separate. I’ve never really thought about it, but it just makes sense. My voice is shaking a bit as I ask, “And – can it go the other way, too?”

Angie tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” I stutter. “Sexual attraction without romantic attraction.”

Ry grins. “We need to get you to more GSA meetings,” they say. “Totally. That’s aromantic. That’s, like, the opposite of me. But also kind of not?”

“There can be overlap, too,” Angie adds. “There are people who are both aro and ace, and both of them can be on a huge spectrum. It’s totally worth looking into some time.”

I nod robotically. Internally, I am reevaluating the entire history of my love life. My eleven-year-old crush on Wesley Crusher, those fantasies about kissing that were always more interesting than the fantasies about going on dates. Sleeping with Connor, and afterwards never wanting to do anything with him besides rile him up. Crushing on Naveen, but not actually wanting to date him. Last year’s relationship that never felt like anything.

I spend the next hour staring blankly at the TV and mechanically chewing on my pizza. Will and his friends converse some more about GSA meetings and some essay in a class Will shares with Ry. I don’t chime in until the three of them get up and are saying their goodbyes. Even then, my interaction sounds hollow in my ears.

After he closes the door, Will comes over and sits next to me instead of back on the couch. “You all right, Mattie-O?”

“Yeah,” I say, and there’s something about being alone to talk to Will that makes me feel like I’ve just taken my first breath after an aquarium escape. “I’m all right.” I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of air in my lungs. “I want to tell you something.”

Will nods eagerly. “Yes, anything.”

I hesitate. “It’s kind of weird to say.”

He looks at me. “Would it help if I said something weird first?”

I consider him. “Like what?”

Will chews his lip. “Like… I think I’d like my relationship with Austin better if he wasn’t in it.”

I take a breath. “I think I might be aromantic,” I blurt out. I immediately feel bad about it, because I probably should have something about Will’s thing first. “Do you really mean that about Austin?”

Will shrugs. “Sometimes,” he admits. “I love him, and it was great when it was early on. But sometimes I wonder if we understand each other on enough things.” He holds the tip of one my fingers between the tips of two of his. “Do you mean that about being aromantic?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It just… makes sense, in a way. Maybe I should look into it more or something, but it’s like… It’s like after my first escape. Like there was something I was just _waiting_ for, and this might be it.”

He nods. “I get that,” he says seriously. “That’s how I felt at that first GSA meeting. Like I was sharing something about myself, but I was sharing it with me.”

There’s a lump in my throat, and if I feed it any more of this topic, it’s going to make me do something embarrassing. Instead, I say, “What are you going to do about Austin?”

Will sighs. “Mattie-O, I think I’ve reached a pivotal point in my relationship. Something has to change.”

“Maybe he could find a job closer to here,” I offer, though I don’t know if that covers all their problems.

Will nods. “I think I need to think about what I’m going to say to him,” he tells me. “I don’t think the way we’re doing it is working.”

I reach over and squeeze his hand. “That sounds like a good idea.”

He gets to his feet, loosely dangling my hand. “Jeezus, this has been an adult conversation,” he sighs. He lets go of my hand and starts toward his bedroom, but he turns back a couple steps away. “Hey, Mattie-O?” he says. “I’m proud of you. For sharing who you are, I’m proud.”

I smile at him. “You’re addressing your relationship concerns,” I remind him. “I’m proud of you too, Will With Two Ls.”


End file.
